Reversed, Flipped, Reflected
by tami3
Summary: Three people are trying to figure out how a certain person's life and death has changed them. One's reversed, the other's flipped, the last's reflected. Some mature content. Reflected is up. R
1. Reversed

Reversed, Flipped, Reflected  
  
Part 1: Reversed  
  
Kind of sickeningly ironic, isn't it, how it's possible to have a subconscious role model influence you more than any person you have expressible admiration for? The other major people in my life- Riddel, Karsh, and General Viper- their virtues are kind of obvious. You've got an angel pacifist whose innocence and beauty compels you to cherish her as a miracle, an upstanding patriot who also happens to be a loving father and father figure, and gruff but supportive neighbor whose always been knocking me down and then helping me back up.  
  
Dario. You're Dario. That's all that my mind can come up with, even though I've had all my life to find that one perfect word that would describe you. Believe me, I've gone down the list. Brave? Nah. You may have looked down your nose at the grim reaper and spat in his face more than once, but spiders (Spiders, for god's sake!) freaked you out. I couldn't call you brave when I had to squash the tiny eight-legged things for you. (No, I'm not calling you a wuss. I was the one that you had to hold until I fell asleep and couldn't see the perilous dark anymore. But, on a hypocritical note- c'mon, I was 5. You still had that phobia when you were 24.)  
  
Smart, then? No, I always found your intellect- well, it was fine, as military geniuses go, but your intelligence, fortified by experience, was dealt a serious blow by your compassion some time ago. There is a level of kindness that leaves you at vulnerable. And every time you had to detain a frail youth for a crime (no matter how serious.) you'd hesitate, which is why you always got kicked, bit, scratched, and stabbed. I don't know when your immunity to softness took a plunge. Maybe when Mom and Dad died. After all, you know what it's like to just old enough to understand the isolation and devastation the world can enforce on you. Yeah, I know it's great to be sensitive, but I don't think they cared much about you suffering when the put one and one together and inserted blade into chest while you were looking away. I could call you nice, but that's not what a little brother remembers about a dead older one when he remembers the uncalled for punching sessions  
  
I've even tried thinking of you as strong, for Christ's sake. That one's hard to refute, isn't it? Greatest warrior of Termina, always kicked my ass in training sessions, packed with muscle. Great support for that attribute. But wait. How did you die? Karsh said. a monster. There should be no shame in that, I know. The beasts in the Isle of Damned are a lot different from the ones here, moderate creature with little brains and even less brawn. They're tough. They've got great elements and more effective attacks. But you wanted to commit suicide.  
  
How the hell did that suddenly pop up, you ask? Simple- Karsh went, came back, not a scratch on him. He wasn't nearly as good at fighting as you were, Dar, and he didn't get mangled, like you did. If you were actually killed by a monster, you must have let one get close enough to you. What was it Dar? Wait. You were engaged. You didn't really love her, or you were too guilty of depriving Karsh of her that you couldn't through with it. No, that doesn't work. Was it your job? They demanded a lot from you, but you hated it but couldn't get out because it's expected of our family. NO!!! NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE!!! WHAT THE HELL WAS SO WRONG WITH YOUR LIFE THAT YOU LET A MOSTER CHEW YOU UP SO BAD THAT COULDN'T EVEN BRING BACK UP THE BODY?!  
  
And now you're gone. I've spent the last 4 years waiting for something new to come into my own existence, something so spectacular that it can take the place of your indefinable, frustratingly vital presence. Love, hate, the end of the world, anything!! I thought I'd come close, when Serge smacked into me at your gravestone, but he's in a bit of a romantic predicament himself and I can't be bothered with looking up at him. (Eh, might as well have. He was younger than me, and finding a kid better than you is really awkward, not to mention degrading.)  
  
I've been stagnant. No, I'm reversed. You left when I was sixteen, just as my character was developing. What the hell was I supposed to be when I didn't have some format to follow? I was something, a while back. But I was cut off right in the middle of learning how to be polite and considerate, and now I'm just a hard -headed jerk who explodes when I feel like it. Right before you turn into an adult, everything feels like such a big deal to you. Maturity is a buffer zone for the emotions that come into play, constantly. And if you don't have anything to stop, it just surges in or you as a tidal wave and engulfs you. You can't help but let your feelings vent.  
  
I'm going backwards. I can't not. I'm still bewildered at how you abruptly stepped out of my life and left me wondering exactly what kind of person you wanted me to be. You didn't want me to be you- be more stoic you said- but you couldn't have wanted me to turn out to be so juvenile and petty either. I got confused- I was deemed old enough to live without a guardian (what's two years, anyway?) and then I just stopped progressing in most things. Actually, everything, except for my training. Every teen needs a vice like grip on his arm, restraining him from falling too far in rebellion and moodiness. And I didn't have one. (Riddel was scared of me when I got angry; she stayed out of my way whenever I was pissed. Which meant she was never around. As for Karsh, he lived where you died. I couldn't help feeling a bit resentful.) I forgot all the chivalry you taught me. Most people I met wondered if I was in my mid-teens when I flipped them off when they stared at my scowl too long. For some reason, even my looks are taking their time in catching up with my real age. Must be a mental=physical thing.  
  
And every time I visit your grave, happen to glance at your various possessions that still clutter up our house because I'm too lazy (or sentimental) to box it up and move it out of the way, I take another step back. In my mind, I can see your face vividly when it's supposed to be going dim, see you grinning and laughing off one of my adolescent tantrums while alternately correcting what I did. And every time I let another one of fate's blows bowl me over and drive me to rage, I fall deeper into the habit. When I snap it's just about the only time that I don't think of how'd you reproach my every impulsive move.  
  
And now I feel so rotten after mulling over this that I've spent at least five minutes putting dents in the wall. The skin on my knuckles has been torn off and I'm leaking red all over the floor and practically slathering it on the walls. I should dress my hands, then scrub it off before Riddel and Karsh come in to check on me like they said they would. But, then, I don't want to. Yeah, I know it should be disgusting for me to have my own blood scrawled over the logs of my house as a messy landscape painting, but it isn't and I'm not about to panic about what Riddel and Karsh think about my state of mind, then spend half- an hour struggling to get the stains out while trying to keep my bandages dry.  
  
Oh yeah. I'm reversed.  
***  
  
Gotcha. I bet most people who read my other fics thought Glenn was gong to end up as Reflected. (the whole fortune thing) There's still the other two, though, so let's see..  
  
This is closest the representation of Glenn (how I see him) that I ever wrote. I know, it conflicts with most images of him, but my powers of perception are broken or mutated or something. Actually, the first time I saw Glenn I thought he was the same age or even younger than Serge. When I got him in my party and checked out his background information it took a minute for me to process that 2 and 0 and realize I was way off.  
  
Why did I think he was aged 15-18, you ask? Well there were several things- one, he had big eyes, which made him look really sweet despite the frown he's always sporting. (But I guess it doesn't count, as it is an anime game.) Two, his face was shaped a lot less angular than most of the guys. (makes him look like a kid.) And three, I think he acted like one. Everyone in town appears to think of him as a willful little brother, like the flower-shop lady. Plus, I can vaguely recall him sitting on a wall and getting around by hopping on them. I relate this kind of action to children.  
  
This one as a lot better than the stuff I've been pumping out lately, right? The other things I kind of had to force out me, and this one just came, which is so cool. I've found the secret to writing fics! Choose a topic you like. Even if you spit on my other fics, please review this one, or due to lack of interest, I'll discontinue. (Just kidding. I'm having too much fun!)I know there's a lot of insanity here (courtesy of what that weird brain of mine feeds me), so if you want to talk about something, I'll send you an e-mail if you leave your address. I want to finish this thing within a week, that's all I know.  
  
Next up: Flipped. 


	2. Flipped

Reversed, Flipped, Reflected  
  
Part 2: Flipped  
  
It was deeply frustrating that my world didn't go topsy-turvy when you were torn away from me. I went to the funeral (just a symbolic ceremony, because there wasn't enough left of you shove into a casket.), cried, recited a few poems and then said some of my own expressing our love and emotional things like that, cried some more, and went over the things we gave each other while we were dating. That's chaotic, you say. I was a healthy, light- hearted 19-year old when my vision of a secure and cozy future shattered and I went reeling into anguish. That's not the way I see it. I did all the usual things, the expected things, so what? I reacted just as any heart- broken fiancée would. And that's what drives me insane.  
  
It was all just routine! What, our love wasn't significant or unusually rare enough for me to do something drastic- like, as unattractive as it may be, loose my senses completely and go chasing your ghost all over the globe? Construct a cult-like shrine for you in one of the countless hidden cubbies of the manor? I should be value the mildness of my grieving all the more for it, I know, but I wish my love for you was intense for me it to actually endure, lodge itself in my mind and interrupt every single second of my day. Instead, I find myself able to go for hours without thinking of you, as if you were just a stranger I ambled upon years ago and sometimes found myself reflecting upon for musing's sake. How repulsive. How relieving. How. depressingly psychology textbook.  
  
One thing most people don't realize is that love is like anything else; it has to end. Through death, or tragedy, or time, love is forced to forfeit its eternality. And afterwards, you sob for your loss, like an addict whose craving to have that comfort again is creeping up on him like the apathetic undertaker. Romantics dare to have a broader scope, and claim that love can be strong enough to go beyond life itself. Dario, is your sprit watching over me? Your intangible hands caressing my hair, brushing my cheek, as I sleep and you pace the halls of what should have been your home, reminiscing about the memories you imagined to have had of us raising our children? Yes, I considered that in the beginning, and drove myself to hysterics at times at the impossibility. And yet, the will of my dreams were so strong that they did take an almost palpable form, at times. I would look over my shoulder to see if your spirit had slipped its arms around my waist and was wistfully embracing me.  
  
But that's nothing. It's shit, just fucking delusion. (Yes, I do swear. When your three best friends growing up were all somewhat coarse boys, it is inevitable that I pick up a few bad habits. And I never do it casually, because really, you only need it when you're upset. And I'm miserable right now.) How could I possibly have been comforted by that appalling thought? You were wandering the earth, too attached to depart and finally find bliss, and rest?  
  
Love's deceptive. Sure, it gives you a high, leaves you giddy and feeling as if you're above everyone else on an emotional level, but then, so does narcotics. And mild poisons. It's also dulls your soul, like the alien chemicals, mostly because you're always giving up little parts of yourself to satisfy the other. I had to give up my passion for doll collecting, because Dario couldn't stand them. (I can sort of see his point. It is a bit unnerving to have a hundred unblinking eyes in the same room as you while you're trying to have a make-out session.) I made him swear to never touch a drop of alcohol. Glenn said that I was less motherly; Karsh complained that Dario was never any more fun.  
  
But we were selfishly devoted to each and would do anything to avoid arguments. In that aspect we were different from most couples. We skipped the draining drama and trauma and become the most placid (boring!), celebrated pair in town. Things that needed to be settled simply went about their own way to resolve themselves.  
  
Karsh and Glenn were so embarrassed to be in our company, they'd always take off with you telling Karsh bye and for Glenn to back home for dinner when I arrived. They knew that they just didn't belong in the atmosphere while we were together. They were interlopers, unnecessary spectators. Glenn was your younger brother, and hearing us talk about things that would have a deep effect on him made him uncomfortable. He didn't want nieces and nephews, didn't want to live at the manor because you were his guardian and he would have to come along. He was still dependent on you for everything and knew that when we got married, we'd be too busy establishing ourselves as man and wife for you to pay much attention to him. He wanted us to wait, so it wouldn't interfere with his life, the one he had right now and liked. But he was too shy to say anything about it to us, so he just ran away from his issues.  
  
Karsh just didn't like the marriage. Period. And I knew why, and you knew why, and we even halfway approached him about it. But he was generous and let it lie as it was for another day. We both knew it was eating him up inside, that it was agony every time we touched lips or rubbed up against each other. But we so determined to ignore everything else so we could dote upon each other that we disregarded even the devastation that would be inflicted upon your brother and our best friend.  
  
I wasn't brought up that way. I always felt awful if I even just scolded Glenn or refused to share my candy as a little girl. I remember people complimenting me on my sweetness, my consideration for all living things, from the lowliest criminal to my dearest companions. But when we discovered each other, the good part of me just melted away, replaced by fawning infatuation. The comments about my tender nature shifted to remarks about my emerging beauty, our compatibility, my success, anything but the admiration of my compassion.  
  
I was a healer. I vowed to care for all ailing things as a child when my mother died of an illness, and exploit my white innate to the fullest. There never should have been a time when I hurt and knew but didn't care. When you swear to have an undying concern for all suffering creatures, the unblemished intent should never be eclipsed by anything, especially not by the pureness of love. And if you think your death put an end to it, you're wrong. I'm desperately trying to put you back in my thoughts as others plead for me to at least try to have an interest in something other than that.  
  
Glenn's perfectly alright on his own, and Karsh is just watching out for both us. He's not trying to take your place, but he still is hopelessly in love with me and is just delaying confrontation because he doesn't want to take advantage of me. I should just make him happy and go to him, then have an ideal existence. I'd have husband that I didn't care too much about so there would be enough left to administer the sick and wounded, and be Glenn's friend as well, but I can't go back to being a good person. I don't know why. I spend my days obsessing over you, and then brood when I think I'm not being morbid enough.  
  
Dario, I was a better person. I would have cared if I changed into something worse. Then suddenly I didn't, and there's nothing and no one to place the blame on.  
  
How did you make me flip?  
***  
  
Phew.almost didn't make it with this one. You can tell I was confused in the beginning, can't you? And, um...yes, Riddel's a little like this in my mind, but not exactly. Or maybe she is. I don't know, she wasn't one of my favorite characters and I didn't analyze her this thoroughly until now. Real strange, isn't it? But eh. I wrote what came along. About halfway, it became work, so I knew I was doing something wrong, and tweaked it. Oh well, I liked how it turned out. Except I put in the "flipped" part a little late. I think I got the timing on the other one, "Reversed" a lot better. And for Riddel and Karsh fans.Sorry, but I just don't think it would work, which is why it's the way it is up there.  
  
I hope I have the "tone" right. Riddel may have been a formal lady, but she wasn't early on. That's why it's sort of alternating from "stiff poet" to "casual/ unhappy girl"  
  
Anyway, a thing I've noticed about a lot of fics that the authors don't take certain liberties with the character's-er- character. (Other than sexual preference, of course. :-P ) They stick to what the game says, which in Chrono Cross, isn't a whole lot on account of the number of characters. I mean, yeah, they have a theme, but they're still human. (or demi-human), which means they should be a lot more complicated than just a funny accent or a sob story. C'mon, this is the world of writing here.develop them a little!  
  
Okay, I've decided to copy what Dixxy does because it's just so convenient.  
  
Wingheart: Why thank you. I was hoping that I would do something like that. I looked into your file and *GASP* no fics! You've been here for a while, so why haven't you posted anything? And here I was, thinking that you'd have some great insight pieces. Oh well. Make you a deal. Post something, and I promise I won't yell at you ever again ;-)  
  
Dixxy: What? No, you've got it all wrong! I love Dario as much as I love Glenn! Of course, he does seem like a bit of a pushover for a military man, and he's waaay too sensitive at times, plus he never even mentions Glenn during that whole "Masamune" mix-up, the Riddel-obsessing, love-sick basta- ok, you were right. I do want Glenn to hate him. :-P Thank you for the encouragement, by the way.  
  
Uftaki: Oh cool. I didn't think anyone would actually believe what I said about him. Your comments are much appreciated from a drama queen such as I. Oh, and I forgot to mention something in the first installment. These fics take place before or during the game. I don't remember which. And I think what Glenn said about Serge might have given off the impression of yaoi. That wasn't my intent, but whatever.  
  
Of course, the same reviewing standards apply as last time: If you want me to talk to you directly, answer a question, or complain about whatever, leave me your e-mail address and I'll get back to ya. Oh, and I forgot thank-yous last time. First of all, reviewers, you people are great. Thank- you Lena, Dixxy, and Miso!!! It was reading your fics that got me out of my slump!!!  
  
And the last one is: Reflected (Try guessing who that'll be.) 


	3. Reflected

Reversed, Flipped, Reflected  
  
Part 3: Reflected  
  
Sometimes I wonder how the hell we ever got to be best friends. We're as different as the night and day, although I'm not quite sure who's what. You we're sunnier than I was, brightened more people's lives in a day than I ever did in my life, but you weren't exactly as intense. You're personality was a bit subtle considered to mine, when we stood together as children before adults when they approached us to marvel at our ability to get along despite the obvious conflict of interests. You were a responsible older brother, who was forever hugging a squirming Glenn tight. (No, you weren't affectionate. Glenn was a prickly toddler and you sure as hell weren't a cuddler, but like I said, you were responsible. And there was no way you were going to let Glenn wander free while he was going through several successive phases, even if it meant you yourself was going to have to receive the full brunt of his temporary inclination to kick, bite, and pinch.) You always had that warming, moronic smile on your face, as if you weren't an orphan who had been shown no real sympathy when his parents died and had to raise a tantrum-prone younger brother.  
  
Who knew why you were so damned complaint, didn't resist against the world trampling down on you? My guess is that you just didn't want to let others in on how bad things were. Call it pride, consideration for sparing the rest of us your guilt-inducing whining, being stoic, I don't care. Why should I have? You were just a kid my age next door that happened to have the same interests, and I was going to take advantage of having a nearby friend, my mom's warnings about your emotional fragility be damned. I even liked Glenn, when I saw how irresistibly easy he was to taunt. It was fun to knock him down over and over again and see him explode, only to forgive me almost instantly.  
  
My first encounter with you, though, was entirely different from when we met up again at age 12. We were both 4 and your dad had come into the shop, hauling you with one arm and the Einlanzer with the other. I was sitting on the floor, playing with some leftover materials that my dad used for forging, but stopped when your father set you down. While our parents held a conversation and conducted business, my mom shoved you gently towards me and told us to be nice to each other or something stupid like that. I don't remember exactly what happened, but you came away bawling, my mother ended up screaming at me, and your dad left rolling his eyes and patting you on the back. My own dad just laughed and said it was a shame for the son of the head dragoon to be such a scrawny crybaby.  
  
You were okay once you hit puberty. You exactly my height, and just about the same build, so I never did figure out how you always beat me when we were sparring. I some rare instances, I did manage to get you to admit defeat, but even going into adulthood you were always more skilled than me; found a way to get whatever strategy I figured would give me the edge. I usually chalked it up to luck, except when I was feeling pathetic and inferior enough to tell myself that you were my superior in all aspects. But there was never any hard feelings that lingered, not matter what game you had bested me in. We'd argue sometimes, like all friends do, but it was just about the only thing you were worse at than me. You were slow to anger and quick to forget, while I was temperamental and stubborn, which usually meant I'd win without too much fuss. But then again, in a round about way, that just proved you were the better man, which pointed to my flaws, again.  
  
The one big issue that we never got to fight about, but I wish we did, was Riddel. It was probably the only thing that we ever came across that really had any threat to our friendship. Everything else was just a stupid squabble didn't matter in the end, but forcing a woman to choose between two suitors is a touchy subject, especially you and your best friend are those two men and the fair lady was in your exclusive (because it was so hard for all four us to find other people that understood us.) childhood clique. Not that is was much of a choice for her. I don't know why I fell for her in the first place. She was soft and demure, and dedicated to giving herself away for other people. Just like you. The complete opposite of me.  
  
Riddel and Dario. We both got teased for being so close to a girl just as we were hitting out dating years, but not making a single move on her until much later, but you were so perfectly matched with her that even strangers knew that it was no contest. When they passed us doing whatever we did back then in your yard, they'd ask whether or not you two were getting married. Then they'd turn to me and proclaim me the best man. For God's sake, they even sometimes playfully asked if Glenn was the prospective bridegroom, if he happened to be quietly nestled in her lap, dozing. But never me. I was too coarse for the shy, pretty girl who matured into a shy, beautiful woman.  
  
But enough of that. Love's love. I never placed as much value on it as you did, although I'm pretty sure that I had to go through as much crap as you did when cupid speared me in the back. All I knew or cared about was that it sucked, and you can only go so far on that little of an impression. I know she's still your girl, Dario, and that even if she ever got past your death I never will. So I stay away, because I may feel like shit now, but that's a lot better than where a relationship based on polite indifference would leave me.  
  
I doing everything I can to show you how grateful I am to you, because as sappy as it is, you really did end up changing a lot of people's lives during the short time you were alive. Riddel was happy for a while, and for that I should be ecstatic because I love her, but I don't really a give a fuck about that because she's strong, and she's always managed to cope, with or without you. We may complain about Glenn all the time, be could have turned out to be a lot worse without you there to guide him when he was a kid. I've kept up being a dragoon, despite the constant temptation to quit because it reminds me of what I did to you. But I figured that it's the only way to halfway redeem myself.  
  
The only way for me to know that I wasn't subconsciously compelled to knock you off the edge because of jealousy is to repent, right? Dario, I'd never dream of taking your place as the head dragoon. I'm just not right for that position. But I'm trying everything I can help others the way you were so dedicated to. Even now I've swallowed up my pride to follow someone around a decade my junior, so I can help save the world.  
  
So, even if it's against my will, I'm a better person. Just because you had to be such a goody-two-shoes and I have to live your life to some extent so I don't feel so guilty. Why the hell did you have to be such a saint? Now your sincerity and duty to the public has reflected onto me and I can't say I enjoy it very much. So what if others think more of me? I'm always busy checking up on Glenn for you, guiding those two dolts that considered you their mentor, looking after the numerous less fortunate individuals that latched themselves onto you.  
  
Oh well. The brightness of the sun will reflect onto those who can (must) catch the light.  
***  
Don't ask. I'm a little tired and think of Karsh too much as a fighter to come up with philosophical ponderings for him. Most of it's just babble that I came up with now, not exactly the impression I had on him before. The love part is a fairly accurate interpretation on my thoughts on him, though. Karsh isn't as emotional as the other 3 members of the Termina (or Viper Manor) gang. I can just imagine him wailing on a little wimpish Dario, can't you? ;-P  
  
I don't really like this one as much as the other 2. I dunno, Glenn's my favorite character and I had a lot of revelations about Riddel, but Karsh was HARD. I just didn't know exactly what to say about him. So a lot of it's just filler, I think. I don't think he swore enough though. (Ok, that sounded WEIRD.) But yeah, he's a grumpy character and he sounds a little carefree in this fic. Oh well, it's how I perceive him.  
  
Wingheart: Congrats on the two new fics! (If every one would please be so kind to give a cheer for our new addition.) And thank you.  
  
Alba Aulbath: Well, I don't think it would be impossible. But the scenario that my brother came up with seems a lot more likely to me, which is why I'm going to write it if I actually start "I'm Fine". What is this mysterious cause-and-effect plot that I have in mind? Lets see if we'll see. Oh, and what does naisu mean? Is it a mistype? (Thank you for reviewing, by the way.)  
  
Kayse: I don't remember all that well, but you have to take the "Glenn path" instead of the "save Kid path" when she's dying from the poison sword wound that Lynx gave her. You have to get a boat to get somewhere, and Glenn asks if he can come along. I think all you have to do is say that you can't save kid and go to Termina. You loose Korcha and Mel, but that's no big deal. Korcha's only a temporary character anyway whose not that great, while Glenn's one of the best fighters, provided you can uncover the special stuff for him scattered around the Terminas. As for Kid *MAJOR SPOILER AHEAD* she'll be fine, so don't worry about it.  
  
So here we are at the end of this mini-series. I hoped people liked it, and even if they didn't, it's ok, because at least I got something out of it. I'm considering writing an accompanying piece called "I'm Fine." that focuses on the same people and on Dario's death again, but runs psychologically deeper and it ultimately more disturbing. Also, it will be based on a series of events, so it's half analysis and half actual story. However, I'm easily exhausted by writing long things, so unless people speak up and ask for it, I might just discard the idea for more naptime. Then again, if I really get psyched about it, I might just write it. ;-)  
  
Big thanks to reviewers, readers, and supporters. Hopefully this was an improvement over my previous works and as always, pleases review. If you want to speak to me directly, mention it and leave your e-mail address. I have to rest now, so bye, and til next time. 


End file.
